


Blooding

by Reprehensible_Content



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Blood Kink, Multi, Other, POV Second Person, Period Cunnilingus, Period Sex, Reader has a vagina, but gender is ambiguous, but it's pretty heavily implied, joxter is a surprisingly considerate partner, snufkin is a snarky lil bitch, there's no actual incest here, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reprehensible_Content/pseuds/Reprehensible_Content
Summary: You've run into trouble with the time of the month; fortunately your travelling partners are more than willing to help!





	Blooding

**Author's Note:**

> Usual warnings apply; please don't read this if it's likely to upset you. The incest vibes are pretty low key in this one though.
> 
> For reference, a 'polttopullo' is the Finnish term for a Molotov cocktail

“Are you bleeding?”

You jumped and drew your smock closer around your knees. You didn’t know what to say to him, because you _were_ bleeding, just not necessarily in the way he might expect.

Joxter’s blue eyes shone with concern. He set aside the food he had been preparing for the night’s supper and lent over to place his palm against your forehead.

“Are you wounded? You can tell me, it’s alright.”

The physical contact and the closeness and the way he actually cared about you all swirled together in a brain that was already overwhelmed by hormones and the pain of your contractions; all of which was exacerbated by Joxter’s horror at the tears that started to roll down your cheeks.

“Oh, now, don’t cry, dear,” he whispered, moving both hands to cup your face. “It’s alright, really, it is.”

“What’s happened, Papa?” Snufkin had poked his head out from inside the tent.

“Our friend is bleeding, I think. Hold them a minute, Snufkin, there’s a good lad.”

Snufkin sat down with your back flush against his torso; he pressed a kiss against your neck and then wrinkled his nose.

“Ugh, I see what you mean; I can smell it now to. But,” he sniffed at the air, “I don’t think they're wounded Papa. Are you?” He addressed this to you gently, to which you answered with a shy shake of the head.

“Oh?” Joxter hovered somewhere between worried and inquisitive.

“No,” his son stated calmly, “they're blooding.” 

“Oh? Oh! Ahh, I see.” Joxter hummed in sympathy. “Oh, kitten, you should have said!” He slipped a palm between your knees to push your legs open. Pushing aside your underclothes, he got to the root of problem fairly quickly; your menstrual rags, soaked through, stuck to your thighs.

“This is of no use to anyone,” he chided, unwinding the material and peeling it away from your body. The cool evening air against your wet skin made your shiver. “If you walk around with this between your legs, you’ll get chafed and irritated something rotten, maybe even worse! There’s nothing in the stew pot yet, is there?”

Snufkin shook his head, so Joxter got up and dumped the bloody fabric in the kettle that boiled over the fire. He was about to prod the bubbling sheets with the spoon they used for cooking when Snufkin coughed a reprimand; he snorted, caught out, and found an adequate stick from the tinder pile instead to stir the rags around the reddening water.

“Now then,” he said, straightening up. “Have we any clean sheets to use in the meantime?”

“I’m not sure we do, Papa,” Snufkin mused. “There’s the bedding, but we still need that.”

“Haven’t you any rags of your own?”

“I did, Papa, but somebody,” his eyes twinkled with accusation, “used them as the wick for that _polttopullo_ last week.”

Joxter looked affronted, so you piped up. “That… was me…”

“What!” Snufkin squeezed you in surprise; Joxter burst out laughing.

“I thought that was Snufkin’s doing!” he wheezed. “And to think, all this time I’d been misplacing the credit for that fantastic act of lawlessness!”

“Beginner’s luck,” you mumbled, but you felt yourself starting to smile all the same.

“Nonsense.” Joxter wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I was right about you; you were made for tormenting park keepers.”

You turned your face to look over your shoulder at Snufkin. “Still, I’m sorry about your rags,” you said to apologetically, “I should have asked.”

“That’s alright,” Snufkin reassured you, pecking you on the cheek for good measure. “I’d happily walk around with blood running down my legs if it meant I got to see you throwing fire bottles at the authorities on the regular.”

That made you turn pink. 

“Yes, now. Speaking of blood running down legs,” Joxter motioned to the mess between your thighs. “If we don’t have any binding rags then I assume we don’t have any washcloths either?”

“We’re filthy vagabonds, Papa. Of course we don’t.”

Joxter hummed. “That river we passed, that was an hour or so back, no?”

“At least.”

“Well that won’t do, will it? Not at this time of night, and not when the water will be so cold.”

“I… I don’t mind it,” you started saying; this all seemed like an awful fuss, and you didn’t want to give them any trouble. “I can wait ‘til morning to wash up…”

“No, kitten, we should deal with this now.” Joxter crouched between your thighs, still pondering deeply. “The smell of blood might attract wild things, and in any case, sleeping like that would be horribly uncomfortable.”

“Not to mention you’d make a mess of my tent,” Snufkin added.

“Oh, I’d sleep outside…”

“You are absolutely not sleeping outside.” The arms around your waist tightened protectively.

The three of you sat considering this quandary for a moment before Snufkin spoke again.

“Say, Papa. You’ve tidied up for me a time or two – could you do the same here?”

“That’s a very good point.” Joxter’s brows arched in consideration. “That is certainly a thing I could do.” He looked up at you. “Would that be alright with you, kitten?”

“What’s… that?”

Joxter snorted and shook his head. “Ah, of course, we’re being coy. I mean that I’d clean you with my mouth, kitten.” Seeing your eyes widen, he quickly added, “not if you don’t want that, of course – we’ll figure something else out…”

“No, no,” you blurted out, “I’d…” That surprised him sufficiently to make you flush. “I’d like that.” You looked away, wriggling bashfully back against Snufkin’s chest.

Joxter’s curious expression spread slowly into an impish grin.

“Alright,” he said, pushing your thighs a little further apart, “alright.”

He started where the blood ended, pressing his tongue against the end of the wet smear that painted your inner thigh. His hot breath stole the air from your lungs, and you were suddenly grateful for the anchor of Snufkin’s arms around you.

Joxter worked methodically, carefully lifting your leg to examine it as he went so as to be sure that he hadn’t missed even the slightest spot of blood. He must have felt the way you had started to quiver as he reached the fold of your vulva, because he looked up with playful eyes and pursed his lips to blow air over your swollen clit. You whined helpless, which only made him grin wider.

“Papa.” Snufkin’s voice was low with warning. “Don’t tease.”

Joxter tutted as he moved over to start the same process on the other side. Rasping tongue and warm, wet mouth inched although your thigh as his hands trailed and wandered, pads light against your skin.

This time when he reached the centre, he pressed his thumbs down on either side to part your labia and applied himself against you, trading his rough tongue for the soft pout of his lips. You gasped as he lapped up the blood, sucking it away from your labia with a wet ‘pop’; you could barely suppress a disappointed whimper when you lost the pressure of his mouth.

“There,” he huffed, leaning back to admire his handiwork. “I think that’s you clean.”

You wanted to beg him to keep going, but there was no way you’d be brave enough to ask for that. Fortunately, together with tarot reading and snarky commentary, Snufkin seemed to have developed a knack for reading minds.

“Surely you’re not finished, Papa?”

“Oh?”

You felt Snufkin shrug behind you. “Oh, I was just thinking that a climax would help with the contractions. I know it does for me.” The suggestion earned a rakish smile from between your legs.

“You know, that’s a point. Should I make you come?” Joxter asked sweetly, propping his chin up on one hand and spinning lazy circles against your inner thigh with the other. “Would that help with the pain?” His tone darkened. “Would you like that?”

You swore you felt your heart stop.

“Y… yes please…”

Joxter grinned with delight before taking you into his mouth with gusto. He was rougher this time, making you wail as his tongue rasped against your over-sensitive clit. Snufkin pushed his hands under your clothes to take hold of your breasts, sensitive and heavy with the time of the month. He began to knead them, mixing gentle squeezing with brushing his fingertips along the underside of your boobs, sending shivers up your spine.

“How do they taste?” he asked breathlessly over your shoulder. “Is it good, Papa?”

“Oh, they're just perfect, kitten.” Joxter’s eyes fluttered open to reveal blown-out pupils. “Such a sweet thing to have on my tongue.” You cried out as he pressed his tongue into you, slurping obscenely, blood running down his chin and matting into his stubble. “You might just have to come down here and taste him for yourself…”

You shrieked as their filthy talking sent a wave of arousal sparked up your belly; Snufkin hushed you near instantly by pushing his tongue into your mouth. His hands left your chest and snaked down your abdomen to wind into his father’s hair.

“Tempting as that is,” he grinned mischievously, “they needs consistency, Papa.” Joxter yelped as his fingers tightened and pressed his face down against your cunt. He moaned against your pussy, the vibrations making you buck wildly.

“That’s it,” Snufkin gasped into your ear, “grind against him. Fuck my Papa’s face.”

You obeyed, working your cunt against the flat of Joxter’s tongue as he held his mouth open and slack to better serve your needs. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed back into Snufkin, zoning in on the sensation between your legs that was reaching a fever point.

You reached the edge, crested, and tipped over; your orgasm crunched into being and radiated out to pulsate violently through your entire body.

As you fell back into a golden afterglow, you were vaguely aware of Snufkin affectionately massaging his father’s scalp as he swallowed the slippery rewards of your climax.

“How was that, kitten?”

Snufkin laughed when you could only make a distracted little noise. “I think that means it was good, Papa.”

Joxter, ever the paragon of grace, rocked back onto his heels and fished around in his mouth to pull a pube off the back of his tongue.

“Oh, gross,” you winced, “sorry…”

“No, no! Don’t be sorry.” He wiped his fingers off on his trousers. “It’s only natural. Now, what to do for a rag… aha! I know!”

He pulled the scarf from around his own neck and presented it to you with an air of triumph. You looked hesitantly at the scarf and then up at him. 

“Are… are you sure?”

Snufkin snorted. “Trust me, it’s seen worse.” He dodged, laughing, when his father tried to smack him upside the head.


End file.
